Becoming Us
by bingblot
Summary: "So, I was thinking, I'm still kinda wired, don't really want to go home yet. Want to go somewhere, grab a drink, decompress?" AU for the end of "Countdown."
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All things "Castle" belong to Andrew Marlowe and the powers that be at ABC.

Author's Note: I was rewatching "Countdown," and Castle's expression at the end when he's in the elevator always makes my heart hurt so I decided to try to "fix" the ending.

 **Becoming Us**

 _Chapter 1_

"You guys don't know how lucky you are."

Castle inwardly stilled at Espo's words, glancing back to look at Beckett, meeting her eyes. Basking in the warmth of her eyes, in her smile as she looked at him. Her gorgeous green-gold eyes, that warm, closed-mouth smile he loved so much (well, he loved all her smiles). The smile he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life.

He suddenly flashed back to that last heart-stopping moment of terror before he'd pulled the wires from the bomb, from thinking their time was up. That if he had to go, her face being the last one he would ever see was something.

But it hadn't been. They had more time.

He had more time. He had another chance. To get what he wanted: the rest of his life—with her.

He tore his eyes away from her, suddenly terrified that she might be able to read his thoughts in his eyes. Long experience with Beckett had taught him some caution, not to push too fast. Because she meant too much to him.

He looked back at Espo, his eyes flitting over Ryan and the Captain's smiling faces. Oh, these faithful friends. "Actually, I do."

Yes, he knew he was lucky. He'd believed he was lucky for years—lucky for the words that welled up in his mind, lucky to have found a publisher, lucky that his words somehow turned into stories people liked and wanted to read. Lucky to have always had his mother. Lucky that his daughter had turned out to be so perfect.

Lucky to have met Beckett.

A knock on the door interrupted them, as Fallon poked his head inside. "Can I talk to you two for a second?"

Castle looked at the boys and made the facial equivalent of a shrug as he stood up and followed Beckett out of the room.

Fallon faced them. "I just want you to know the US Attorney's Office is charging them with multiple counts of conspiracy to commit terror. But thanks to you two, we won't have to add the murder of innocent New Yorkers to that charge."

Castle puffed up a little. Put like that, they really were big damn heroes, weren't they?

"Well, we were just doing our job," Beckett responded. "Actually, I was doing my job. I don't know what the hell he was doing," she added, with a teasing nudge.

"Hey," he pretended to protest. "But that's true," he quipped. What had he been doing? Being Beckett's partner. It had never even occurred to him to leave. He couldn't leave her. Also, he did feel a sense of loyalty to the city—but mostly, it was just her. He'd stayed because of her.

Fallon didn't smile. Did he ever? "Listen, what I do, it's not who I am. It's just what I have to be. I hope you both understand that."

So Fallon did have a conscience.

"Why don't we just say that it was a pleasure and that we hope that we don't have to do it again?" Beckett suggested diplomatically.

Fallon nodded, his granite countenance softening just a smidge. Apparently even he wasn't entirely immune to Beckett, proving he was still human. "Fair enough."

He nodded again in lieu of saying goodbye and turned away.

Hey, wait. After what Castle had just experienced… "If it does happen again, maybe you could just text me," Castle suggested, only half-facetiously. "Have a code word: run."

Fallon lifted one hand in a wave. Well, it wasn't a no.

Castle turned back to Beckett, releasing a breath as some tension left his frame. Now that Fallon, the shadow of Homeland Security, was gone, it really felt as if it was over.

"Hell of a day."

Beckett smiled. "Hell of a day," she agreed.

Seeing her smile, the warmth in her eyes, he thought, for about the thousandth (millionth?) time, that she had to feel it too. This thing between them was too strong, the magnetism, the pull. Too strong to be entirely one-sided. Right? He knew she was physically attracted to him—he knew enough about women to recognize that much. And she… cared about him. She'd become his best friend.

A vague, fuzzy memory surfaced in his mind. The freezer, what she'd said. (What he thought she'd said?) _I just want you to know how much I…_ How much she what? Had she even really said that? His memories of those last moments in the freezer were understandably blurry in his mind; he hadn't exactly been in the best of conditions either. But he thought she'd started to say something, something important.

And he… didn't want to lose his chance. They'd been given more time. Carpe diem, after all.

He took a breath. "So, I was thinking, I'm still kinda wired, don't really want to go home yet. Want to go somewhere, grab a drink, decompress?" He hesitated for a split second. Had the sudden feeling as if the rest of his life depended on the next few seconds. (And maybe it did.) "We could talk? I know a nice bar, friends with the owner," he quickly added with a somewhat lopsided smile, deflecting with humor, as always.

She smirked, giving him one of those indulgent little amused looks. "Sure, why not," she agreed. "I know what you mean. I'm still wired too."

"It's the adrenaline," he commented with mock sagacity just to see her roll her eyes. Which she did, as always when he affected pomposity. Always pricking his pretensions, keeping him on his toes, that was his Beckett. And he loved it.

She turned away, poking her head inside the conference room. "Sir, I'm going to head out now, if that's all right."

Montgomery nodded. "Go, Beckett, and I don't want to see you back here until noon on Monday at the earliest. Get some rest. You've earned it."

"Thank you, sir."

Castle contented himself with lifting his hand in a gesture of farewell that Montgomery returned with a nod and the boys with mock toasts with their beer. He waited as Beckett shrugged into her coat and then fell into step beside her.

She released a rather gusty sigh as they stepped onto the elevator. "Can you believe it was only the day before yesterday that we found Jamal's body and this whole thing got started?"

Had it really only been just over two days? It felt as if weeks had passed, as if it had been weeks since he'd sent Alexis and his mother off to the Hamptons. "It's been a long couple of days," he answered.

"Mm." She made a noncommittal sound of agreement, rolling her shoulders as she occasionally did when she was tired.

"You know, Beckett, if you're too tired, you can just head home. We can take a rain check," he offered, concern outweighing his constant wish to spend more time with her.

She shot him a faint smile. "Nah, I'm okay. 'Sides, you promised me a drink and I'm holding you to it."

He returned her smile. "A drink it is."

He made an exaggerated show of ushering her out of the elevator, sweeping into a half-bow as he opened the door to the street. She rewarded him with a soft laugh and one of her bright smiles that warmed him straight through to the core, better than hot chocolate or good alcohol or anything else.

And as usual, his heart stuttered a little in his chest at the sight of her smile, the affection he swore he could see in her eyes filling him with so much tentative, poignant hope.

He settled back into the front seat of Beckett's car, relaxing into it in spite of the little spring in the back. He had, ridiculously, started to feel a little attached even to that spring because this seat was where he accompanied Beckett everywhere, his seat as her partner just as the battered old chair by her desk had become his chair.

It was strange and surreal to see how normal the streets looked. He idly focused on a couple of giggling college students on the sidewalk, his gaze then moving on to a young couple pushing a stroller. So blithely ignorant that their lives might have ended today.

"It's weird, isn't it, to see everyone going on with their daily lives, not knowing how close things came to ending."

By now, he was no longer that surprised that she so perfectly echoed his thoughts. He shot her a faint smile. "I was just thinking that. I see your telepathic powers are still working."

As he'd expected, she rolled her eyes at him and he suppressed a smile. "Telepathy isn't real, Castle."

He gave her a look of feigned shock, widening his eyes and dropping his jaw. "But Beckett, how else do you explain the way you said exactly what I was thinking?"

"Maybe you just have a terrible poker face."

Now his gasp of indignation was only half-fake. "I have a great poker face! I'm great at poker! Just ask the Mayor or Patterson or Connelly!"

"Yeah, Castle, next time I talk to the Mayor, I'll be sure to ask him how good your poker face is," she agreed sarcastically.

He nodded with exaggerated seriousness. "Thank you, Beckett."

She snorted at that and he let a small smile escape him, his heart lifting inside his chest at this familiar teasing exchange. It was probably not admirable of him but he really did enjoy tweaking Beckett just for the sake of seeing her roll her eyes, for her snarky responses.

They had arrived at the Old Haunt and Castle again made a show of opening the door for her just to see the curve of her lips, the brightness of her eyes. (Yeah, he really was a lost cause when he would do just about anything just to see her smile. Of course that had been true for a long time now.)

It was still early, not quite 5 p.m. yet, so the Old Haunt wasn't busy, just a few scattered patrons here and there, all familiar to Castle because they were the die-hards, as it were, and he lifted a hand to wave at a couple of the ones he knew the best.

He greeted Brian and then turned to Beckett, pitching his voice in a careless drawl like the stereotypical bartender in an old movie, "So what'll it be tonight, Detective?"

He was rewarded for this with a huff of laughter and switched to his normal voice. "Your usual or actually, I have an idea, what about a hot toddy? I figure we could both still use the warmth and I don't like to brag—"

She snorted. "Since when?"

"Touché, Beckett. Fine, I do mean to brag; I make a great hot toddy. I've perfected the recipe over the years."

She quirked her eyebrows at him. "Perfected it, huh? Okay, Castle, a boast like that needs proof to back it up so let's try this 'great' hot toddy of yours."

He grinned. "Prepare to be amazed," he declared grandiloquently, pausing only long enough to see her patented roll of eyes before he slipped behind the bar and headed towards the kitchen.

He hadn't been kidding; he had spent some time experimenting with hot toddy recipes so he made relatively quick work of gathering the ingredients in the kitchen. He tried—and failed—not to let his imagination run away with him picturing some future time making hot toddies for himself and Beckett in the loft, with both of them in pajamas perhaps, getting ready to cuddle on the couch while drinking their hot toddies. Something seemed to squeeze his heart in a spasm of sheer longing at the image. God, he wanted that. There were times he honestly thought there was nothing he wanted more in the world than all those little trappings of being in a real relationship with Beckett, just being cozy and together.

He tucked the mental image away as he added the final touch of a little sprinkle of nutmeg and a sliver of orange peel as a garnish before balancing the two mugs on a small tray as he made his careful way out of the kitchen.

Beckett had moved to their usual booth towards the back and his steps momentarily faltered, his breath stuttering in his chest, as seemed to happen so often when he saw her in the occasional unguarded moment, when her Detective Beckett shield was down, because she was so… lovely. In these moments, it was the only word that seemed to fit. Kate Beckett was a beautiful, gorgeous woman any day but loveliness was a softer thing than beauty and in these moments, when she was more Kate than Detective Beckett, she was just lovely.

She was resting her cheek on her hand, her eyes absently fixed on the wall, her hair spilling over her shoulders. She looked, now that her guard was down, a little pale, tired, and he felt a spurt of protective tenderness, of the sort he rarely felt where Beckett was concerned because she was usually so awe-inspiringly capable. But right now, all he wanted was to be able to take care of her, wrap his arms around her, let her rest her head against his shoulder and sleep.

But then she blinked and her eyes found him and he promptly pasted on an expression of nonchalance as her expression brightened. (God, he didn't know what he'd done to deserve to have Kate Beckett's expression light up like this when she saw him but he was ready to get down on his knees in gratitude to all the powers that be for letting it happen—and would do anything to make sure it kept on happening.)

"Ready to be amazed?"

She scoffed. "Yeah, right, Castle."

"Challenge accepted, Detective Skeptical," he quipped, setting the tray down on the table before he sat down. "One masterpiece hot toddy for you."

She wrapped her hands around the mug for a moment before she took a slow sip, her eyes fluttering closed. A small humming sound of pleasure escaped her.

The baser part of his brain immediately leaped to a faint moan during a hot kiss in a dirty alley just a couple months ago, to all the things he could do to her and with her to induce her to make that sound of pleasure again for more… physical reasons.

His mouth went dry and he took a hasty sip of his own drink, trying to shove down the flare of lust. So not appropriate.

She took another sip while he felt a thrill of triumph before she met his eyes, giving him one of her small, closed-mouth smiles, the ones that still managed to brighten her eyes. But being Beckett, all she said was, "Not bad, Castle."

He feigned outrage. "Not bad! I'll have you know that my hot toddies are the best in the city."

"According to who, the Rick Castle Guide to Drinks?"

He pulled an exaggerated pout. "You're mocking me after I just saved the city?"

She hid her smirk behind her mug but her dancing eyes gave her away. "My apologies, Mr. Big Shot Hero Man," she retorted with exaggerated servility.

He made a show of inclining his head. "Thank you, that's better."

She laughed outright and he grinned, feeling his heart lift, warmth coiling inside his chest. And as usually happened when she teased him like this, he felt that sense of rightness settling over him, as if there was nowhere else on earth he would rather be. It was the sort of peace he'd never felt with anyone except Alexis, this knowledge in his gut, his heart, that when he was with this person, he was exactly where he belonged, he was home.

He was distracted by the buzz of his phone and he pulled it out of his pocket to see that Alexis had sent him a text message.

It was a picture she'd taken of his mother dancing around the family room of his Hamptons house holding a large glass of what, knowing his mother, was probably one of the most expensive wines in the house, in her hand. Accompanying it, Alexis had sent a text saying simply, _Gram is celebrating that you're okay._

He huffed a laugh and turned his phone to show Beckett. "My mother is incorrigible."

Her smile softened with enough affection it made his heart leap in his chest. He loved how much Beckett cared about his family. It made him think dangerous thoughts about Beckett being part of his family…

"You have to admire Martha's spirit, her effervescence."

"Speak for yourself. Since it manifests in a constant willingness to raid my liquor cabinet. I should keep it under lock and key."

Beckett—of course—saw right through him and only laughed. "Be nice, Castle."

"I'm very nice!" he protested. "It's not like I make her pay for her keep."

"She's your mom."

"Believe me, I'm well aware of that fact," he pretended to grouse.

Beckett only smiled, her eyes so soft and warm, it was positively drugging. And he could only think, his heart leaping, that he could swear he saw everything he wanted to in her eyes. She had to care about him to smile at him the way she did…

He straightened up, leaning forward a little. "Beckett, I was thinking, we—"

His tentative, hopeful words were cut off as Beckett's own phone buzzed where it sat on the table and he glanced down at it, feeling his heart drop into the pit of his stomach.

It was Josh. Oh shit.

Doctor Motorcycle Boy.

Her _boyfriend_. The word seemed to lash him like a whip and he inwardly flinched.

He forced himself to meet her eyes, managing a wan smile as he gestured with his hand. "You'd better get that. Use my office if you want."

She gave him a small rather apologetic smile. "Thanks."

She pushed herself to her feet, lifting her phone to her ear. And he just heard her say, "Josh, hey," as she walked away.

Left alone, he let himself slump into his seat with a sigh. Shit. He'd done it again. Forgotten that she had a boyfriend. He really really needed to stop doing that. It was slowly killing him, he thought, the painful torturous spasms of hope and then the brutal reminder.

His imagination was too good, himself inventing what he saw. Building fantasies out of whole cloth. Or rather, interpreting friendship as love just because he was so desperate to see it. Only to be brought up short, his hopes shattered every time, by the reminder that she _had a boyfriend._

A boyfriend who had stayed behind from Haiti for her. A boyfriend of whom she had just said the night before, _It means we have a chance._

A chance. For a real relationship, one for her to dive into it.

And he wanted her to have that, even if it wasn't with him.

It might kill him, the thought of her with Josh (anyone else) like a kick in the gut, but he wanted her to be happy and he wouldn't interfere, wouldn't do anything to spoil her chance.

She was his friend, his best friend, that was all. And he just needed to accept that.

 _~To be continued…~_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Author's Note: Fixing the Josh problem, as promised.

 **Becoming Us**

 _Chapter 2_

"Josh, hey."

Kate quickly crossed the Old Haunt to the steps leading down to Castle's office (or as he usually termed it, in typical Castle fashion, his secret lair). It wasn't that loud in the Old Haunt right now but still, privacy to talk to her boyfriend was good.

"Kate, where are you?" Josh sounded a little annoyed.

"I'm… at a bar. I stopped to get a drink," she answered, somewhat unspecifically.

"I went to the precinct looking for you."

Oh, he had? That made her pause for a moment. She hadn't known or really expected it. Josh didn't usually just drop by the precinct. "Oh, sorry, I must have missed you." Kate settled on the small couch Castle had in his office.

"Yeah, Esposito and Ryan told me you'd just left so I headed to your place but obviously you're not at home either."

Oh. Kate felt a little niggle of guilt. Now she understood the irritation in his voice if he'd been hunting for her like that. She'd… forgotten about him. Or something. Which didn't really say much for her as a girlfriend, did it?

"Sorry. We closed the case and I still felt a little wired so I thought I'd get a drink before going home."

There was a beat of silence that somehow managed to convey skepticism. Kate tried not to bristle. She was imagining things. It wasn't as if she'd lied. Every word she'd said was true. The fact that she'd neatly avoided mentioning Castle was just… tact. Yeah, tact, because she knew Josh wasn't exactly a fan of Castle's, tended to get irritable when Kate mentioned Castle too much. (She hadn't realized how much she mentioned Castle until Josh had pointed it out.)

"Uh huh, right," Josh finally said. "This drink you're having, it's with Castle, isn't it." It wasn't a question.

Kate momentarily froze and then mentally shook herself. She hadn't done anything wrong. "Yeah, so? He's a friend."

"Is that what he is?"

Kate stiffened. "What is that supposed to mean?"

There was a pause and then she heard Josh sigh. "Nothing."

She relaxed a little only to tense again when Josh asked, "Can I ask you something?"

The question itself was innocuous enough but something in his tone had alarm bells going off. His tone was careful, measured, too much so. He sounded… resigned, as if he already knew the answer.

"Sure, what is it?"

There was another brief pause in which she guessed that he was formulating his question before he spoke again. "Today, when you decided to stop for a drink, did it ever occur to you to check and see where I was, if I was free?"

No. She winced. That sounded too harsh. "You're usually so busy."

"Maybe but I was supposed to fly out to Haiti yesterday, remember, which means I wasn't scheduled at the hospital so I was actually free today."

Oh. He had a point. She hadn't stopped to think about that. Although in fairness, she'd been preoccupied by the threat of a dirty bomb. But after the threat was over, when she'd just been decompressing in the precinct with the Captain and the boys and Castle, shouldn't it have occurred to her?

Shouldn't she have wondered, wanted to celebrate life, as it were, with her boyfriend? The one who had chosen not to go to Haiti because he knew she hadn't liked the idea of him flying out again, not even six weeks after he'd returned from his trip to Africa?

But she hadn't thought of Josh at all.

Defensiveness and a flicker of guilt had her tone hardening as she responded, "Look, Josh, I'm sorry you missed me at the precinct but I had a really long day and am I just supposed to postpone everything, not have a social life at all, on the off chance that you might actually be free?"

"That's not what I meant, Kate, and I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything."

"That wasn't what it sounded like," she muttered but the edge was gone.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said again, more mildly. "And I know you're probably still recovering from your case of hypothermia from last night so I get that you're tired." He paused and then went on, sounding tired now, "Look, Kate, I didn't want to bring this up but I just… need to know and I don't think putting it off will do either of us any good. Do you... miss me when I'm not around, do you even think of me at all?"

"Josh, you're my boyfriend, of course I…"

"Be honest, Kate," he interrupted. "I can take it."

"Josh, I… I'm not exactly the clingy type," she faltered, resorting to what was a lame truth. Because the reality that she couldn't admit in so many words, the reality she'd just acknowledged to herself, was that she didn't really miss Josh when he wasn't around. Which was a lot of the time anyway. She didn't really think of him much at all.

She liked him, a lot even, was attracted to him physically, enjoyed his company when they were together—but when they weren't together, she was… fine. One might say she was used to it (which was true too) but the stark truth was that she didn't particularly miss him. She certainly didn't need him. She just… went on with her life, with Josh's absence barely impinging on her consciousness.

Yes, it bothered her that he was gone so much but it was more a problem in the times when she was free. And she didn't particularly enjoy the sense, the knowledge, that she came second in Josh's life. But then as long as she was busy, distracted with work, she didn't particularly notice Josh's absence. Oh. Oh damn. Put like that, Josh came second (if that) in her life too, after her work, after her dad, after… a couple other things (people).

God, what did that even say about her? What kind of girlfriend was she?

On second thought, she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to that.

He sighed. "No, you're not the clingy type and that's probably a good thing, given how much I'm away, but Kate, I just… I think maybe it's time we think about this, us, if this is really what we want."

"What… are you saying?" Kate asked slowly, dumbly. She'd been up for about 36 hours straight (she didn't count the time spent unconscious in a freezer), had almost died multiple times in the last couple days. She thought she could be excused for being muzzy-headed right now and really, after all this, now was when Josh decided to have a serious conversation about their relationship? She felt a flicker of irritation but for once, she was a little too tired for it to turn into anger.

Not helped by the consciousness that he had a point.

"Kate, I really like you but… I don't think this is really working for us, is it?"

Kate shut her eyes and slumped back on the couch. "I guess not," she agreed. It occurred to her that the really sad part was that she couldn't even feel surprised. It just felt… inevitable. Which said a lot in and of itself, if she'd somehow always expected that her relationship with Josh was going to end one day. What had she been doing, just using him to pass the time? (God, was that really what she'd been doing?)

Hiding in her relationship with Josh to avoid… anything else.

She thought about what she'd said, how she'd felt on learning that he had chosen not to go to Haiti after all, that they had a chance. But they didn't, had never really had a chance, had they? And it wasn't just about Josh and his frequent travels but about her and the brutal fact that she just… didn't care about Josh enough. She winced. She had _wanted_ to want more with Josh but it didn't work like that, did it? On paper, he was in many ways the perfect guy and yet…

She had blamed the way their relationship felt stalled on his frequent absences because that was easier than to admit that the blame went both ways. She had kept one foot out the door too.

"You're a great guy, Josh…"

"Spare me, Kate," he cut her off gently but firmly. "We both know this relationship wasn't really right for either of us."

"I'm sorry." That, at least, she could say and mean it.

"Yeah, me too. There's another group heading to Haiti at the end of the week; I think I'll see about getting added to it."

"Oh, okay." Really, what was there to say? "Take care of yourself."

"Yeah, you too." He paused. "Hey, Kate?"

"Yeah?"

"I just… I think we both know that I wasn't the person you really wanted to be with."

She flushed, her heart abruptly thrashing around in her chest. "Josh…"

"I'm not trying to blame you, Kate. I know it's hard with how much I'm away. Just... think about it and… be happy, okay?"

"You too," she managed to say through lips that felt as if they'd gone numb.

"Goodbye, Kate."

"Bye."

She heard the tone that indicated he'd ended the call and lowered her phone to her lap, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

That was… not what she'd expected to happen.

She supposed she was just glad that it had turned out to be so… relatively easy to break up. An agreement over the phone, some regret but no bitter argument, no angry accusations.

Made easier because she didn't have his keys or anything of hers at his place and the reverse was true for him too. And that said a lot about the state of their relationship too. All the little signs of a shared life, clothes sharing a drawer, two toothbrushes in a bathroom, exchanging keys—she and Josh hadn't gotten there. So all they needed to do was agree that it was over and it was done; he could be gone from her life without leaving a trace behind.

She'd broken up with Josh; she was single again. For now?

His parting words returned to her and while it hadn't really taken what he'd said to remind her of Castle, the words, the significance, still hit her with a jolt.

Her own words from—had it really only been yesterday?—returned to her, that she wanted someone who would be there for her and she could be there for him…

Sitting there in the dimness of his office, she finally had to admit that there really was only one person that fit that criteria.

And it wasn't Josh, had never been Josh. Even if she'd wanted it to be (and she had to admit that she hadn't really wanted Josh to be that person for her), he couldn't be, not with his commitment to his overseas work. That was his calling and she couldn't ask him to give that up for her; it would only end up making him resent her in the long run.

If she was going to dive into it with anyone, it should be with someone who could—and would—put her first.

Josh's words were still echoing in her mind. The person she really wanted to be with…

It was ridiculously like the game of word association. Who did she think of when she heard that phrase…

As if her eyes were in some sort of conspiracy to betray her own heart (she'd been spending too much time with Castle when she thought in such terms), her absently wandering gaze fell on a framed picture of Castle that he had sitting in pride of place on the bookshelf, a youthful Castle giving a piggyback ride to a pint-sized Alexis.

She was being ridiculous, a corner of her mind pointed out, to ascribe so much significance to the timing of seeing the picture. She just happened to be in Castle's office in his bar, that was all.

And yet, for all that the prosaic explanation was true, it felt important, oddly consequential, that she was in Castle's office, somewhere filled with reminders of Castle, when she had this conversation with Josh.

The only other places more likely to serve as the setting for this conversation were her apartment and the precinct—but both those places too had been permeated by Castle's presence too somehow, her apartment because of the shelf-full of his books (and from his few visits to her place) and the precinct for obvious reasons.

And that said a lot for Castle's place in her life, the extent to which he'd become a big part of her life in a way Josh never had.

Castle—had it always been Castle, somehow?

Since… last spring, at least. Since before her ill-advised aborted relationship with Demming. Since before the day she'd stood in the precinct and watched him walk away from her with his arm around his ex-wife.

She hadn't wanted to admit it, had buried any and all feelings for Castle underneath the rubble of her tentative hopes, buried them in anger and hurt and a long summer of silence. And in this relationship with Josh.

But somehow, in spite of all her denial, in spite of all her trying, it seemed her feelings for Castle were more resilient than that, surviving even the hurt and the months of silence and their arguments.

And since he'd come back, he'd made himself her partner again. Made himself… necessary, somehow. For the coffee she waited for every morning at work, for the smiles she looked forward to seeing, for his steadfast, not-so-silent presence by her side that had become reassuring.

Her eyes focused on the picture again, a tiny, irrepressible smile tugging at the corners of her lips, warmth flickering in her chest, at the image. He really had been adorable back then (the Castle that had taken up residence in her mind bridled)—and he was such a devoted father and she… liked that about him.

She just liked him. (A lot, a voice in her mind interjected.)

Yes, she liked Castle (she steadfastly refused to attach any other word to her feelings for Castle). Did it need to be more complicated than that?

Maybe it didn't. Maybe she just needed to… stop fighting against the current that seemed to want to push her towards him…

She let out a shaky breath and pushed herself to her feet. She could do that, couldn't she?

She moved towards the stairs leading back to the bar, only to pause at the last step, feeling a flutter of something like panic. God, was she really about to do this, try for… something with Castle?

Castle who had already hurt her once? Except he'd come back, he'd broken up with Gina, he'd had her back in facing the new revelations about her mom's case, facing a dirty bomb.

She'd almost frozen to death wrapped in his arms and the last very fuzzy thought she remembered was being glad that at least she wasn't alone…

She might be—she was—terrified of being hurt (again), was afraid too that if she and Castle tried for anything more, they would founder and wreck on their mutual stubbornness and defenses and baggage.

Her wandering gaze paused, froze, as it passed over one of the frames on Castle's desk. From where she was standing, she didn't have a complete view of it, just a partial glimpse mostly of hair but—she recognized it.

Without conscious volition, she found her feet moving, taking her behind his desk so she could see the pictures he had on his desk. It wasn't prying, a corner of her mind told herself. The pictures were out in plain view and he was the one who'd invited her to use his office.

Her breath stuttered in her chest because, yeah, she hadn't been wrong. He had a picture of her on his desk.

It was one of three framed pictures on his desk. One showed a laughing Alexis, looking a couple years younger than she was now, the other was a picture of Castle, Martha, and Alexis taken at some formal event, perhaps one of his book launch parties.

And then there was the picture of her. It looked as if he'd probably taken it secretly on his phone at some point and then printed it out to frame it. In it, she was turned somewhat away and was smiling, looking happy.

She wasn't quite sure why but what really made her heart flutter was that the picture had obviously been taken last year. She could tell from the length of her hair, the reddish glint in it. He'd taken this picture of her last spring, before he'd taken up with Gina again, before everything that had happened since he'd returned this past fall to bring them so much closer.

In spite of their summer apart, in spite of Gina and Josh, in spite of everything that stood between them, he had cared enough even last spring to take the picture and keep it and then he had chosen it to keep on his desk here.

(It occurred to her to wonder if he had another picture of her in his office in the loft, possibly even in his bedroom. Given the evidence before her, she guessed the answer was yes, even as her entire body seemed to flush with heat at the bare thought of his bedroom.)

Oh god. She'd been telling herself—trying to persuade herself—for months now, ever since he'd walked away from her with Gina really, that Castle might care about her as a friend, have a little crush on her along with lust, but it wasn't more than that, it wasn't that serious. He wasn't that serious about her because, after all, why else would he have turned to the nearest blonde in Gina?

It had become harder to believe that in the last weeks but after seeing these pictures, all her attempts at denial were stripped away, revealed as the hollow lie it was. It didn't take a detective to understand that the pictures he had on his desk were of the most important people in his life—and she was one of them, up there with his daughter and his mother. His family.

Oh god.

Whatever Castle felt for her—and she wasn't ready to put a label to it—it was real and it was deep and it was serious. He was serious.

And he was back up in the Old Haunt right now, waiting for her.

She slowly made her way back up the steps, pausing just at the top to look at him—oh. A sharp hand seemed to reach in and squeeze her heart at the sight of his expression. He looked… bereft. Had something happened to Alexis or Martha—wait, no, even as the thought darted into her mind, she dismissed it. It couldn't be that; if it were, he wouldn't still be sitting there but would have run straight to where either of them was. This was about something else.

It was about—she abruptly remembered the way his expression had frozen, changed earlier when Josh had called—oh… She might be being ego-centric but she had the sudden conviction that this was about her. Or more accurately, about her and Josh.

Castle's latent jealousy of Josh hadn't been subtle but now, faced with the evidence of the real depth of Castle's feelings in the pictures on his desk, she realized just what the existence of Josh in her life meant to him. It _hurt_ him to think of her and Josh.

She remembered how she had felt watching Castle walk away from her with his arm around Gina and inwardly flinched.

She didn't want that, would never want to hurt Castle.

The thought had her finally managing to uproot her feet, moving towards him.

Maybe it really was time to stop fighting this thing between her and Castle…

 _~To be continued…~_

A/N 2: I hope this satisfied… Thank you, as always, for reading and reviewing, especially the guest reviewers I can't thank directly.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Author's Note: I meant to post this earlier but RL got in the way. Sorry! But without further ado, here is the next chapter. I hope it's worth the wait!

 **Becoming Us**

 _Chapter 3_

Castle had already decided he was done for tonight, needed to leave, before Beckett even disappeared from view into his office.

He couldn't deal with this tonight, couldn't spend any more time with her right now after the shattering reminder that she had a boyfriend. A boyfriend of whom she'd just said that they had a chance.

He wanted more than anything for Beckett to be happy and if she wanted to try for that happiness with Josh, he would not stand in the way of that.

Being Beckett's partner, her friend, was enough, he told himself. At least it was for now. But not tonight. Tonight, his emotions were too close to the surface, too raw. And with the thought of Josh at the forefront of his mind, being with her any longer would hurt, abrade his spirit too much.

What was that line he'd read somewhere once, that the worst way to miss someone was to sit right next to them and know that they can never be yours?

He flinched.

No, he couldn't deal with spending any more time with Beckett tonight. As much as he normally loved spending time with Beckett—she was his best friend, his favorite person in the world aside from Alexis—tonight it hurt. And he wasn't a fan of self-torture.

He would leave now but he couldn't go without telling her goodbye, wouldn't just walk out on her like that. But once she returned, he'd excuse himself.

Anyway, he really was tired. Emotionally and physically exhausted after the tension of the last couple days so getting home would be nice.

He sensed her return—or more prosaically, heard her steps—and promptly manufactured his blandest expression before he looked up at her. "Hey, all done with your phone call?"

She gave him a faint smile as she resumed her seat. "All done, thanks."

There was a shade of something a little off in her smile but he didn't analyze it, too busy steeling himself. He pasted on the most casual smile he could muster. "It's been a long day so I think I'll call it a ni—"

"You wanna get another drink?" she blurted out, her words overlapping with his, making him break off mid-word.

He blinked. "You… uh… want another drink?" he repeated, not able to mask his surprise. He glanced down at her mug; she hadn't even finished her hot toddy, although it had probably cooled by now.

"If you're not too tired." She gave him a small, oddly tentative smile.

"I… yeah, I could do with one more drink," he found himself agreeing before he'd even consciously decided to do so. Because of course he would. When did he ever say no to Beckett? If she asked him to, he would probably agree to walk barefoot across red hot coals.

God, he was so doomed. Hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her. It was terrifying.

Now she flashed him a real, brighter smile—and yeah, that was why he could never say no to Beckett. The way she smiled when she was pleased, that beam of warmth in her eyes—every time he saw it, it was like everything in him unfurled under its influence, like a flower under the sun. ( _Oh, that was a real manly metaphor, Rick_.)

He tried for insouciance. "So, what'll it be, Beckett? Your usual? Another hot toddy? Beer?"

"A glass of wine?" she suggested.

"Coming right up."

He headed back to the bar, glad of the excuse, the chance to try to get a hold of himself. He directed Brian to get two glasses while he made his way behind the bar and got the high-end, expensive Merlot that he kept in the Old Haunt as part of his private stash, the part he didn't make available to the general public.

Beckett had invited him to stick around for another drink. It didn't have to mean anything—and yet… Beckett didn't really extend invitations that often. She wasn't one for spontaneous suggestions.

And she'd just been on the phone with her boyfriend. He'd been half expecting her to be the one to make an excuse and leave to go be with Josh. But she hadn't, had instead suggested another drink. Choosing to spend more time with him rather than going to be with her boyfriend.

What did that mean? Did it mean anything?

No, it didn't have to, he counseled himself. Maybe Josh was busy, after all, the man was a surgeon and he did tend to be busy, as Beckett had said herself only the day before. Maybe she just didn't feel like being alone right now and he was a friend. That could be all it was.

 _Careful, Rick_.

He grimaced at himself. He was trying to shore up his pitifully fragile defenses where Beckett was concerned. (Who was he kidding? He had _no_ defenses where Beckett was concerned, not really.)

He picked up the two glasses, trying to school his heart into indifference (fat chance of that) and his expression into casual friendliness (with more success, he thought).

He handed one glass to her as he resumed his seat, lifting his own glass. "So, a toast? To saving the City?" he suggested.

She lifted her own glass. "To having more time," she agreed and took a sip.

She lowered her glass. "We make a good team," she said quietly.

His heart leaped and he couldn't help smiling, both at the words and at the memory of another conversation over a year ago. "Like Turner and Hooch, right?"

She huffed a soft laugh. "You do still remind me a little of Hooch."

He made a face at her. "Funny, Beckett. I'll have you know I just saved the city today and I have it on good authority that the Mayor actually wants to give me a medal."

"Never going to stop bragging about that, are you, Castle?" But her tease was mild, her eyes and her smile indulgent, even… affectionate?

"Well, you still won't let me carry a gun so yeah, I think a medal from the Mayor will have to do."

"It's against NYPD policy to allow children to carry guns," she drawled.

"How fortunate for me since I am not a child."

"All evidence notwithstanding," she quipped.

"Mean, Beckett," he groused but he couldn't keep up the pretense of being offended, a laugh escaping him. And somehow, he felt his mood lifting, in spite of everything. God, he loved this woman, loved her quick wit, loved the way she teased him.

 _Careful, Rick._

The warning of his inner voice made him mentally pull up short, the realization breaking in on him. Damn it, this was why spending more time with Beckett, especially without the buffer of work or the presence of the boys, was so dangerous. It was so… easy to fall into their usual banter and every time they did, with every smile she gave him, every time she made him laugh, he fell even deeper, his heart ensnared even further.

Shit.

He sat back, taking a long drink and making a show of looking around the Old Haunt, as if to check on how the other patrons were doing. And then he controlled his expression and his tone to ask, "How's Josh?"

The mention of Dr. Motorcyle Boy's name should do the trick, break this illusion of intimacy.

The amusement faded out of her expression, something he couldn't quite read flickering across her face. "He's… leaving to go back to Haiti."

He was what? But… "I thought he'd decided not to go."

She dropped her eyes, tracing one finger around the base of her wine glass. "He had. He did. But there's another group leaving at the end of the week and he's going to try to join them." She paused and then added, abruptly, "We broke up."

He choked on the sip of wine he'd just taken. He coughed and finally managed to say, "I'm sorry."

It wasn't untrue. He sternly tamped down on any other more unworthy emotions even if he couldn't help the flicker of hope. A break-up, no matter how amicable, was never pleasant. And if she was hurt or upset in any way…

She made a small face. "It's okay, Castle. It was… a mutual decision."

"Oh," was all he could say, lamely. Afraid to say anything more because he wasn't sure he could control his tone. The little knot of worry loosened inside his chest. If it had been mutual, she wouldn't be hurt. He hoped.

She took another sip of her wine and then paused, one finger idly tracing a whorl in the wood of the table for a moment before she looked back up at him. "I liked him but… he wasn't what I was looking for."

His heart slammed painfully against the walls of his chest. The question of what she was looking for rose to his lips but he swallowed them back. He wasn't going to pry. He wasn't. He knew Beckett too well to think that pushing her would work. And Beckett wasn't a sharer.

He didn't trust himself to speak so he kept his lips clamped shut, lowering his eyes in turn to study the table.

There was a beat of silence and he felt her gaze on him but he was, for once, afraid to look up and meet her eyes, afraid of what she might be able to read in his expression. She had only just barely broken up; now was not the time to be immediately pushing for something, he told himself.

"You're not going to ask what I'm looking for?" she broke the silence quietly.

That made his eyes jerk up to hers in surprise, not to say shock. Was Kate Beckett actually inviting further questions?

"I… uh… don't want to pry," he managed to say.

The ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "Since when?"

"I thought I'd try something new," he offered a little lamely.

Another more definite smile curved her lips. "It's torture, not asking, though, isn't it?"

"I'll suffer through somehow," he assured absently, assuming the tone of a martyr in an automatic bid for humor.

She huffed a sound of quiet amusement that wasn't quite a laugh but she sobered quickly enough. "You can ask, Castle," she said quietly.

His breath stuttered in his chest and he had to swallow back the lump of hope and fear and love that had formed in his throat before he could find his voice. "What are you looking for, Kate?" His voice sounded unlike himself to his own ears.

She let out a breath and met his eyes. "I think… I've been looking for you."

She—he—uh—what—his thoughts stuttered, his mind floundering desperately, and he knew he'd been able to comprehend English as of a second ago but now, he—uh—oh god—really? His thoughts were gibbering, too disordered to focus. "Really?" he finally managed to croak. But even as he said it, he knew it was stupid. Kate Beckett wouldn't have said it if she didn't mean it. Oh god, she wanted him, wanted to be with him. And he finally managed to find words, at least sort of.

"Kate, you—us—it's all I want," he blurted out. Poetry, it was not, and he knew later that his writer's brain would no doubt come up with much more eloquent words but right now, he was still too surprised and possibly, a little fuzzy-headed from lack of sleep, to be that eloquent, even as he felt happiness blazing through him, any hurt he'd ever felt immediately becoming inconsequential. Everything he'd hoped for, all he'd thought he could see in her eyes, in her smile, was really coming true.

And really, it wasn't tiredness that was making him stumble over his words; it was just her effect on him. Because somehow, this woman who inspired him more than anyone else he'd ever met, who had driven him to write millions of words about her, could also erase every coherent thought from his mind, make him lose all his vaunted skill with words, with little more than a look, a smile, the tug of her lip between her teeth.

A small, tentative smile curved her lips. "Yeah?" In anyone else, the question would have sounded shy. In her, he wouldn't call it shy, just a little tentative. As if she really hadn't been sure of him. He'd never heard the kickass Detective Beckett sound so uncertain. His heart twisted. It seemed like something against nature.

"God, yes, Kate, you know it's not about the books anymore, hasn't been about the books for a long time now. I keep coming back because of you, because I… like spending time with you, like being your partner." He bit back the rest of his confession, that he kept coming back because he was in love with her. He couldn't tell her that, wouldn't push like that yet. It would be too much, too soon.

Something he couldn't read flickered across her expression. "Castle, I—you should know that I'm not very good at this."

He blinked, confused. "What?"

She gave a rather awkward little wave of one hand. "I'm not good at relationships."

He opened his mouth to respond but before he could, she went on, not quite fluidly. "Before, when I said I wanted someone to dive into it with, I—it wasn't really Josh's fault. It was me. I was the one who kept one foot out the door. I didn't—I don't think I know how to dive into it, really. I don't… share, don't talk about what I'm thinking."

Maybe she didn't open up easily but she was trying and for now that was enough. She did care about him, wanted to be with him, and that was more than enough for now. That was everything.

"Kate, no, as long as you want this, want _us_ , then we can figure it out. We can take it as slow as you need to. I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "Besides," he added, aiming to make her smile because he didn't like seeing the shadows in her eyes, "I like to think I'm pretty good at getting past your defenses. After all, you didn't like the idea of working with me at first either."

He was rewarded for this as she huffed a laugh, her eyes brightening.

"Yeah, you wore me down eventually."

Not for the first time, his gaze strayed to her lips. "See, we can figure it out. We'll find a way," he said without any very clear idea what he was saying, distracted as he was by the shape of her lips, the curve of her smile. "Kate?"

"Yeah?" He heard her breath hitch a little as his heart sped up.

"Can I kiss you now?"

She smiled, one of her real bright smiles, and he wanted no other answer, one of his hands lifting to cup the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, as he leaned in.

And then his lips were on hers and it was… gentle, tender even, her lips soft and warm and responsive against his and just… perfect.

Because this time, there was no danger hanging over their heads, there was no ruse to carry out. This time, there was only them. This time, it was real.

She lifted a hand to touch her fingertips to his cheek as she shifted closer and his thoughts blurred as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the line of her lips.

There was a sudden burst of sound and they both jerked apart, the spell breaking, and he looked around to see that a small group of people had entered the Old Haunt on a wave of lively conversation and laughter. Oh right, they weren't alone. He'd… forgotten or something. But Beckett had a way of doing that too, making him forget about anything and everyone except for her.

He turned back to her to see that she was biting her lip in that way that made him want to kiss her (pretty much everything she did made him want to kiss her. And well, after their kiss just now, he didn't think that was ever going to change.)

"Maybe we should go down to your office, more privacy."

"Come home with me," he blurted out, his words overlapping with hers.

She flushed (beautifully). "Castle, it's not that I don't want to…"

"Not for that," he quickly added, interrupting her, even as he felt a flare of arousal and elation that had him momentarily questioning his own resolve. "I think we're both too tired for that. I just meant, we'll be alone there since my mother and Alexis are out of town and we could talk more. And then if you wanted to, you could crash in the guest room or something. I just… after the last couple days, I'm not sure I want to let you out of my sight," he admitted candidly.

It was an admission of vulnerability he probably wouldn't make to anyone else but Beckett was different. She was his best friend, more than that, and she would understand.

She did understand, her expression softening. "All right, let's go back to the loft."

He stood up and held out his hand. Her glance flickered down to it and he remembered the last time he'd held out his hand to her, when they'd been standing in front of the bomb.

And then she smiled, one of those warm, closed-mouth smiles that he'd always thought showed that she cared about him as more than just a friend, cared maybe even almost as much as he did—and now he knew she did—and slipped her hand into his.

And hand in hand, they left the Old Haunt to go home, together.

 _~To be continued…~_

A/N 2: Just an epilogue to go…


	4. Chapter 4

A/N 1: Without further ado, the epilogue, taking place after "Knockout," because I wanted to show that Castle and Beckett do make it to a real "us." (Apologies for any confusion.)

 **Becoming Us**

 _Epilogue_

Kate drifted awake slowly, blinking her eyes a few times to clear them, and saw Castle. As usual. She was sure he must have moved at some point in the last few hours, if only to walk around a little, but she couldn't have sworn to it. He'd been the last thing she'd seen when she'd fallen asleep and now, he was still there, in the uncomfortable hospital chair pulled up by the side of her bed.

"Hey," she managed to say.

He blinked and looked up from his little notebook that he'd been staring at, as if he'd planned to try to write and then lost his train of thought. "Beckett, hey, you're awake."

"Probably not for long," she mumbled rather petulantly. She didn't like the way the pain meds made her so groggy. She didn't think she'd managed to stay awake for more than a couple hours at a time.

"Sleep is good for you. It gives your body time to heal," he told her, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

It was a familiar refrain after the last week in the hospital and she forced a faint smile, even through the pain, which she didn't want to mention to him anyway. "Something's wrong when you're the voice of reason and I'm the one wanting to rush forward."

He gave a brief chuckle although the amusement never reached his eyes. "Don't worry, Beckett. I'll go back to being my usual impulsive self once you're back on your feet again."

She hoped so. This preternaturally subdued, cautious version of Castle was bothering her because it was just so unlike him. She wanted her Castle back, silliness and childlike enthusiasm and all. The sight of his ravaged expression hurt more than any physical pain she might be in—which was saying a lot since everything seemed to hurt these days, still. It hurt to move, it hurt to sit up, it hurt to lift her arms too much, it hurt to laugh. Standing and shuffling even the few steps to the bathroom was agony. But seeing how haggard Castle looked was worse.

God, she really did love him, didn't she? She'd stopped shying away from the word in her thoughts, wondered it as he held her when she cried over Royce and over Captain Montgomery. Now, she knew for sure. She did love him. Loved him too.

But first she wanted to make him smile. "Hey, Castle?"

"What, Beckett, what do you need?"

"Come back here. You missed last time." She tilted her chin up to give him easier access, puckering her lips slightly.

This time, his brief laugh was real, his eyes lighting up with happiness, and for just a moment, he didn't look quite as run down as he had been. He looked like her Castle again. And he did what she'd asked for, cupping her cheek with his hand and kissing her again, on the lips this time, softly and lingering for just a few seconds before he drew back.

"Better?" he asked.

She gave him the best teasing smile she could muster. "Mm, for now."

She was rewarded by his smile and the way he brushed his lips against hers again briefly, before sitting back down. And silly as it might sound, she couldn't help but think that his kisses helped her too in some indefinable way. She was beginning to think she understood the common childhood refrain of kissing an injury better, not because a kiss actually had any magical healing properties like in a Disney movie but because a kiss was a gesture of love. It was a reassurance that she wasn't alone, making the physical hurt recede in importance.

"You get any rest?" she asked.

"I got enough. Don't worry about me."

She didn't believe him but after a moment, decided not to call him on it. It wasn't as if she could force him to sleep. It had taken all the energy she had, which wasn't much, just to make him start leaving the hospital at night to return to the loft and (hopefully) get some sleep, and she knew she alone would have failed if Alexis and Martha hadn't allied themselves alongside her, and he'd finally given in to their combined persuasion.

"Your dad sent a text to say he'd be back this evening and he'd bring dinner with him," Castle added after a moment.

Her dad and Castle really were getting along very well. At some later time, she might find that a little disturbing, given her dad's status as the expert on little Katie Beckett stories that she'd rather Castle never heard, but that would wait.

She tried to shift and let out a breath of mingled frustration and pain. She hated being so helpless. She hated letting Castle see her when she was so helpless—except that it wasn't a question of 'letting' him. She knew enough of Castle's stubbornness—and his loyalty and, yes, his love—to know that she had roughly the same chance of walking a mile in her current condition than she did of convincing Castle to leave her in her recovery. (She could try but the effort would probably kill her, even if she succeeded.) And she had to admit that as much as she hated being so helpless in front of him, she didn't really want him to leave. He was the one who gave her a reason to smile every day, still, in spite of everything. She might be bedridden and in pain but because of him, she was still, somehow, content.

"Castle, can you help me move the bed to sit up a little?"

Castle leaped to comply before the words were even fully out of her mouth, immediately finding the buttons on the side of the bed to adjust it into a reclining position. She couldn't quite sit up fully, at least not comfortably, but reclining so she could mostly face forward as opposed to just staring up at the ceiling, she could do. She managed a smile. "Thanks, Castle."

"Of course. Are you feeling okay? Is there anything else I can do? Can I get you anything, water, tea, some real food? What do you need?"

She raised her brows at him. "You can sit down and stop hovering."

"Right. Sorry." He dropped down into his chair. "I'll try to stop driving you crazy," he added rather ruefully.

She linked her fingers with his. "You're fine, Castle, not annoying me too much yet."

The sound of a throat clearing and a quick perfunctory knock had her looking up and Castle turning around to see Josh. Castle released her fingers as if he'd been burned.

Oh right, Josh. She'd seen Josh once before after she'd woken up from her surgery, barely long enough for her to thank him for what he'd done, saving her life, a thanks he'd demurred. Of all the ways she'd ever imagined running into an ex, in a hospital room after he'd been forced to perform emergency surgery on her to save her life had not been one of them. Last time, she'd been too groggy, her thoughts still foggy from exhaustion and the anesthesia, to be conscious of the awkwardness of seeing Josh for the first time since their break-up but now, she was fully aware of it as if this were the real first time.

Kate suppressed the urge to fidget with the bed covers and manufactured a faint smile. "Hi, Josh." It was nice of him to visit like this. He had saved her life because he was, first and foremost, a doctor, but checking in like this to see how her recovery was progressing wasn't required.

"How are you feeling, Kate?" he asked, even as he quickly skimmed through her chart and approached the foot of her bed. "They told me you were transferred out of ICU so I thought I'd check in to see how you were doing."

"'S nice of you. Thanks. I'm doing better, just really tired all the time."

Castle had stilled, his expression neutral, too much so—he wasn't still hung up about Josh, was he? Her silly, insecure man. Kate nudged her fingers against his where they rested on her bed and he responded, curling his fingers around hers. She felt a little twinge of guilt at holding hands like this in front of her ex but it wasn't as if Josh didn't know about her relationship with Castle. And Castle mattered more to her.

Josh nodded, not appearing to notice her and Castle's joined hands although she was sure he had. "The exhaustion is from your body trying to recover from a serious trauma. Are you taking enough pain medication?"

She grimaced a little. "I'm taking them." Less than the nurses recommended but that was her call, wasn't it?

"Take the pain meds, Kate. They'll help. Can you persuade her to take her meds and not overdo it?" Josh turned to Castle.

"I'll try my best," Castle answered.

"If she'll listen to anyone, it's probably you," Josh said. And while in anyone else, it would probably have sounded bitter, there wasn't a particle of resentment in Josh's voice or his expression. The words sounded entirely sincere, tinged with real concern.

"I'm right here," Kate interjected. These irritating, well-meaning men—but it was hard to muster up annoyance at it given how run down Castle looked. He looked about as bad as she felt.

Josh turned back to her. "It looks like you're healing nicely, right on schedule, Kate," Josh said bracingly. "Just don't try to do too much too fast or you'll set yourself back. I promise the doctors here know what they're doing so listen to them and don't overdo it, okay?"

"Yes, Josh," she agreed with exaggerated obedience.

As if on cue, his beeper buzzed and he glanced at it. "I need to go. Take care of yourself, Kate."

"Yeah, you too."

Josh paused. "Castle?"

Castle started a little. "Yeah?"

"Look after her, will you?"

Kate huffed although, again, it was mostly habit and not out of any real irritation.

"I will," Castle promised.

"And get some rest yourself. You won't do Kate any good if you end up collapsing."

"I keep telling him that," Kate inserted.

"I'm getting enough rest," Castle insisted mildly.

"Keep it up then." Josh transferred his gaze back to her. "Bye, Kate."

She gave him a small, real smile. "Thanks for visiting, Josh. Bye."

He nodded and lifted a hand in farewell, and then he was gone, striding quickly down the hallway. And somehow, she doubted if he would visit again, now that he was reassured as to her recovery and that Castle was staying with her.

"Since when are you and Josh friendly?" Kate asked, turning to Castle and trying to sound teasing.

Castle lifted one shoulder into a half-shrug. "He saved your life, Kate. As far as I'm concerned, that makes him my new hero," he quipped with an attempt at lightness that fell flat.

She tightened her fingers around his. "You've saved my life too, more than once, remember? Didn't the Mayor even want to give you a medal not that long ago?" she teased gently.

As she'd hoped, that made him smile, the reference to that night, the night they'd really become, well, _them_. Oddly (or not), even the memory of the freezer and the bomb had been softened over the last couple months, the happiness of what had come afterwards coloring their remembrance of those harrowing couple days. The thought, the memories, had the distance between them seeming too large for her comfort. She wanted him closer.

She tugged lightly on the hand she still held, patting the side of her bed with her other hand. "Come up here and join me."

He hesitated. "Kate, it's a narrow bed and I don't want to hurt you somehow."

"You won't hurt me," she assured him. He wouldn't. She knew that with the sort of certainty reserved for immutable facts of the universe. The sun rose in the east, water was wet, and Castle would never hurt her.

"If you're sure…"

She shot him a teasing look. "I didn't think you'd be so reluctant to cuddle."

That made him huff a laugh. "Well, if you put it that way…"

She shifted slowly, cautiously over to one side of the bed while he lowered the bedrail and equally cautiously perched on the edge. It was something of a tight fit and he was somewhat precariously balanced but it allowed him to put his arm around her shoulders.

Kate relaxed against him with a soft sigh and felt some of the tension leave his body as he pressed his lips to her hair. Oh, she had missed this, missed being able to nestle her head against his shoulder, missed the reassuring warmth of his arm around her, missed being able to rest against the strong plane of his chest.

It had surprised her at first, how much she'd liked being able to lean against him, resting her head in the little hollow of his shoulder that seemed to have been made for her. She'd realized that from that first night when they'd gone back to the loft from the Old Haunt. They had settled onto the couch together to watch _Forbidden Planet_ , as a fun movie they both agreed on and were both familiar enough with that their exhaustion didn't matter, and she'd first experienced the comfort of leaning against him like this. They had both fallen asleep like that, curled up together on the couch.

She'd never been much of a cuddler before, either with Josh or with Will, but as with just about everything else, it was different with Castle, the weight of his arm around her feeling comforting rather than confining.

Even in just a few short weeks, she'd somehow gotten accustomed to falling asleep with her head resting on his shoulder, either in his bed or in hers, so that in the nights they didn't spend together, she ended up tossing and turning, her pillow just not providing the same comfort. She liked falling asleep curled up beside him, surrounded by the solid warmth of his body.

As she suspected she was going to again. "I might fall asleep on you, Castle," she warned quietly.

He let out a puff of sound that might have been a laugh if it had been allowed to grow up. "Go right ahead. I won't take it personally."

Of course he wouldn't. Always so concerned for her and it made it hard to even feel that annoyed at his hovering. She suspected her uncharacteristic quiescence wouldn't outlast her helplessness but she could let him hover. She could—and she would—compromise a little of her Beckett-ness for his peace of mind.

Because she loved him and he loved her. He had said so, she fuzzily remembered that, the one bright spot in the midst of agony. He hadn't mentioned it since she'd woken up, too preoccupied with her recovery, but she knew he'd said it, knew he felt it.

"Castle?"

"Hmm, what is it, Kate?"

She turned her head up to kiss his chin. "I love you too," she breathed against his skin.

His breath caught in his chest and he turned to stare at her, his eyes wide and so blue, bright with hope and happiness and love. "Kate, I…"

She smiled even as she felt ridiculous, irrational tears pricking at the back of her eyes, why she didn't know. "I love you," she repeated, quelling the silly flutter of nerves inside her.

If he weren't so worried about her, she knew he would have pulled her into his arms and held her as if he'd never let her go again but as it was, he just tightened his arm around her shoulders, his other hand coming up to touch her cheek, trace her eyebrows, her ear, random little caresses as if he couldn't settle on how or where to touch her or as if he needed to make sure she was real. "God, Kate, I love you too, so much. I… give me a minute and I'll try to be more suave about it."

She laughed—no, she giggled (this was what he did to her), tucking her face into his collar to breathe in his familiar scent before lifting her face so he could kiss her, which he promptly did, and she felt all his love and his tenderness in his kiss.

She didn't need him to be suave; she just needed this, him.

She parted her lips, melting against him, as the kiss deepened and—felt a sharp stab of pain sear her side, making her break off the kiss on a gasp. Ow, shit! Damn it!

"Kate, are you okay? Oh god, I'm sorry, I should've been more careful. I shouldn't have—" His voice was almost frantic with worry and guilt and he would have left the bed immediately but she gripped his arm before he could.

"It's not your fault, Castle. It was me. I forgot and moved wrong. I'll be okay," she assured him, trying to control her breathing through the pain. Shit, that hurt. Note to self, making out with Castle needed to wait.

She settled gingerly against him again, as the pain slowly subsided, her breathing easing along with it. At least she still had him, his hand sweeping up and down her arm in gentle, soothing caresses.

She sighed, returning her head to her favorite spot against his shoulder. "Sorry, Castle. Rain check on kissing more?"

"Of course, Kate," he said immediately, the forced cheer in his voice belied by the tension she felt in his body. He was still so worried about her. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll have plenty of time for that later, when you're better."

"Promise?" she asked, more to cheer him up than because she had any doubts.

"I promise, Kate." And this time, she could hear a real smile in his voice.

She relaxed against him and after a while, she did fall asleep on him, lulled into it by the steady thump of his heart against her ear, the solid warmth of his arm around her, secure in the knowledge that he would, as always, be there when she woke up.

 _~The End~_

A/N 2: As always, thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing, especially the guest reviewers whom I can't thank directly.


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